A Most Welcome Event
by Trixfan
Summary: I've read many a memory loss story. Those who know my work understand I like to give a unique prospective. Someone in the Bennet household has suffered most grievously and at such a time that is changes the direction of Miss Austen's work. In this case it is a most welcome event for some of the Bennet family while causing angst in others.
1. Chapter 1

Amnesia (Retrograde) - is the inability to retrieve information that was acquired before a particular date. In some cases the memory loss can extend back decades.

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**AN –** I know I seem to have abandoned Deceived, Yuletide Blessings and Something for shorter works lately. However those versions of Lizzy and Darcy aren't speaking to me right now. So I offer this short three chapter tale as compensation.

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'Who, Sir, are you?' Mrs Bennet asked in a gentle but slightly irritated voice.

The most odious man of her acquaintance, that was not right for she had not met the man before, entered her parlour as if he belonged in it. Strange, since waking at first light this morning, Frances Bennet felt very different. Oh, the room she'd inhabited since her marriage to Michael Bennet appeared much the same, as had the corridors leading to this, her favourite space. Some of the chairs had been moved to form a much better grouping for conversation of a large party. In fact the entire house had a different feel, tireder, worn and in need of a freshening. Perhaps this man formed one of many now inhabiting her home. It would be just like Michael to foster such upon her without warning.

'I do not understand you, Madam,' the Wessely individual snivelled.

'I think the question quite obvious,' Mrs Bennet pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. 'You are unknown to me and yet you sit in my parlour. We have not been introduced and I am quite shocked at your lack of decency and manners.'

'Mr Dearest Mrs Bennet,' he snivelled, 'I arrived a seven night past. Your husband and I have been corresponding for some time.'

'Yet, I still do not know who you are,' she held her nose high understanding the better morality to be on her side. Rising from her chair with as much grace as she could, Frances called for a servant.

As she achieved this, Mrs Bennet caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the fire place. The changes she feared were in her mind. Mrs Hill came to her and aided in dressing for the day. She'd presented Mrs Bennet with a new, and if she did say, completely inappropriate gown. The frippery and lace too much for daywear or the position of new wife, she'd frowned at the choice. After all, Frances Bennet had caught her husband. She needed to be demure now and await the birth of their first child.

'I am you cousin, Mr Collin's,' he looked confused.

'I see,' Frances Bennet knew exactly who this man might one day become. If she and Michael did not bear a son, the estate would be entailed on this excuse for a man.

'Ma'am,' Sara, the downstairs maid curtsied.

Glaring at the young girl, Mrs Bennet schooled her expression. It appeared Mr Bennet had hired another maid. Surly the estate could not afford such luxuries. However with a party of visitors, she may have been employed to cover the extra work.

'Please ask Mr Bennet to attend me,' she stated in a kind tone.

It did not signify to get the help off side so early in the day. There would be much to do before sundown. Loud tromping could be heard on the stairs. Two distinctly garish voices whined. For young ladies, Frances considered, they were not very well behaved. Who on earth were these people inhabiting her orderly home.

'Yes, Ma'am,' the girl curtseyed and left in a hurry.

'Mama,' a young girl of maybe five and ten, followed by another a year or two older burst into the parlour without consideration. 'Tell Kitty she is to give me her bonnet for it looks a fright on her and she is too plain to look well in it. I shall take it to pieces and make it up.'

Feeling like the situation had well and truly gotten out of hand Frances Bennet fell into her chair. Her legs suddenly took a fit of shakes and she recognised they would not support her much longer. The small argument went on around her as she comprehended the essential of the conversation. Mama, the younger child had called her Mama. How could she have two daughters of such an age? Yet it made sense. Her dress, Hill's advancing age, the lines upon her own face when she'd caught a glimpse in the mirror. How had this occurred without her knowledge?

'Enough,' she roared, glaring at the two children before her. 'Mr Collin's, I would not wish to detain you from your morning pursuits.'

For Collin's part, he looked ecstatic. 'I shall go and find my cousin Elizabeth,' he chortled.

'Elizabeth,' Frances began to finger her temple and the headache that persisted since waking this morning.

'My noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,' Mr Collin's started on one of his long winded speeches. Lydia giggled and Kitty began to cough.

'Please Mr Collin's,' Mrs Bennet beseeched, 'my head is very ill. Child,' she turned to Kitty with empathy, 'have you not a draught for your infliction?'

'I do not cough for my amusement,' the older girl complained with an edge of anger.

'Of course you do not,' Frances soothed. 'It is very much like the cough my sister Amelia suffered as a girl. Ask,' here Mrs Bennet could not remember the name of their cook, at least the one they might have now, 'Cook to fill a bowl with steaming water and place a small amount of salts into it. Place a towel over your head and it will clear in no time. Off with you now, I should not wish you to become unwell. I shall not let you sister have your bonnet, child if that is what you are worried about. It is yours and I think you will look very well in it just the way it is. You,' she pointed to Lydia, 'will bring it to me. I do not wish to be bothered with such manners again, do you hear me. Now back to your room and think upon your behaviour before our guest.'

'But Mama,' Lydia wailed.

'Your manners are deplorable,' Frances let her ire build. 'Go, before I add further punishment.'

Stomping from the room, the child slammed the door. Her heavy footsteps resounded on the steps. Then Mrs Bennet remembered the odious man before her.

'Elizabeth,' she reminded.

'You have given me encouragement to court your second from eldest daughter as Miss Bennet is soon to be engaged to Mr Bingley,' Collin's stated. 'Lady Catherine has instilled upon me the importance of such a match…'

'Where,' Frances's headache increased, 'are my eldest daughter's now?'

'I believe they are taking a turn around the garden,' Collin's supplied with a wide, toothy grin.

Unable to hide her revulsion of the man, Mrs Bennet requested, 'please have them attend me immediately.' It did not take much for the man to waddle out the door. The look of anticipation upon his face stated he considered this marriage to her second daughter all but complete.

'Oh Lord,' Frances now held her head in her hands. By no means a stupid woman she'd understood the significance of her husband's heir at Longbourn.

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**AN –** I have an idea for a very short and very explicit work. Would anyone read tasteful smut between ODC? It would not break FF rules but would be rated strong M. Secondly, any mistakes are my own as this had not been beta'd


	2. Chapter 2

**AN –** A huge thank you to all who read this work, commented, followed or favorited. In answer to a few questions, there will only be three chapters, none of which will contain explicit material. You'll soon see why Mrs Bennet took the loss of memory so well but will have to wait for the last chapter to understand why. I have researched retrograde amnesia but I have to admit to finding only one case (google Kay Delaney) similar to this. Finally, I chose Mrs Bennet for the recipient of such a memory loss quite simply because I don't think it's ever been done before. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

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Mrs Frances Bennet would never be able to tell if she waited fifteen seconds or fifteen hours for her husband to attend her. Her mind a twitter, visions, smells and sounds from her past assaulted her. In that time her mind catalogued what she did know of her history and at what point it ceased. A quick summary and it seemed her memories until last night were very much intact. What she could not determine, how far in the past last night lay.

A shiver of the most frustrating and distressing kind ran down her spine. Not one to be given to nerves, the woman straightened her back. She would not be overcome by the emotions of this situation. Nothing could change the circumstances and so Frances took in a deep breath, deciding to face her future head on.

Mrs Bennet knew who she was and where she hailed from. She could recall images of her parents, sister and two brothers instantly. She remembered growing up on her father's estate in Northamptonshire, the follies of youth with Amelia followed by her wedding seven short months ago. For the first four months she lived in bliss with her husband paying her every attention. Since she'd announced her pregnancy, Michael took to his book room more and more often stating estate business drew him to that office. Frowning, Frances Bennet wondered how she could stop this anti-social behaviour before it became a ingrained habit.

'Well that is my past,' she supposed, not at all certain how many years befell them to make up the present. 'It seems as if I know these things. They are written into my mind with indelible ink. It is what I do not know, what I cannot remember that causes me distress. Perhaps if I turn my mind to the last memory, at least the ones that do not confuse me completely, the rest will follow.'

And so she considered exactly what occurred before retiring last night. A bride of seven months, Mr Bennet spent the evening reading quietly beside her in this very parlour as was their want every night. Later, when they retired, she left the door open between their rooms letting her husband know he should visit even though her quickening had occurred a month previously. Not soon enough Michael entered and they'd shared a blissful decent into marital pleasure. Frances Bennet fell asleep, sated in her husband's arms. She knew he would not be there when she rose to greet another day.

'This morning,' she sighed in confusion, disoriented by all the small changes, 'there has been so many signs that I have ignored. I do not remember climbing out of bed and falling, nor hitting my head. What can be the cause of this?'

The questions vexed her to such an extent, she looked to the door. Michael had not headed her summons. Wondering if they continued to share the familiar felicity of early marriage, she'd witnessed the decent of her own parents union into loathing.

'That,' Frances Bennet declared, 'shall not occurred in this house.'

Determined, the woman rose from her chair. Knees that should have taken her slight weight creaked at the effort. Her head continued to ache and Frances noticed other changes to her person. Suddenly listening to her body, she stopped before the mirror and really looked at the alterations time had ravaged upon her. Mrs Bennet knew herself to be vain. Although she loathed the lines at her eyes she believed age had been very kind to her. Still the appearance of age brought astonishment and sadness. It proved the passage of time she did not remember.

'Michael,' she gasped at the reflection suddenly materialising in the looking glass.

'Mrs Bennet,' the very man answered from the door, 'you wished to see me?'

Turning to gaze upon him, yet another shocked sound escaped her. Unable to grasp these new truths completely, Frances Bennet took to her chair once again. Her husband lost his hair and wore spectacles. The must have lived a very rich life for the size of his girth to be quite so rotund. Yet he looked exceeding well and not much different in facial features to the younger man she remembered.

'What day is it,' she asked with a quiver in her voice, suddenly needing to know.

'Thursday the twenty first of November,' Michael answered with an air of condemnation.

'The year, Mr Bennet,' Frances challenged. She had been more than aware of the way her husband treated her question with a decided lack of respect. Not liking the tone or expression, she would deal with that later. For now Mrs Bennet needed to know what occurred to cause her memories to fail. If the youngest child were five and ten, even if she'd born one each year which most knew not to be safe, they must have been married at least twenty years.

'The year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and eleven,' Michael answered becoming alarmed at the pallor of his spouse's complexion and her strange behaviour.

'Four and twenty years,' Frances whispered, her hand going to her temple and massaging it as if it could stop the ache.

Truly frightened by the vacant look upon her countenance, Mr Bennet rushed to her side. It did not take long for him to understand his wife was acting very strangely. 'What do you mean,' he questioned, 'four and twenty years.'

'What occurred on the first of April, 1788?' Frances requested with a pleading in her hazel eyes.

'My God woman,' standing abruptly, Michael Bennet lost his temper, 'you and I have chosen never to speak of that night.'

'It is the last thing I remember,' Frances swallow the lump in her throat. Her voice rasped with emotion as she glazed into the astonished eyes of her husband. 'I had quickened, I left the door open and you came to me as you had almost every night of our marriage. This morning I awoke and it seems the passage of four and twenty years have passed. Two girls came in quarrelling over a bonnet. I knew not who they were. The younger states she is my daughter but I do not remember her or that insipid cousin of yours that is visiting. I can only imagine we did not sire a son if Mr Collins has been invited to stay in our house. Pray tell me, Mr Bennet, how many daughters' do we have and why does Mr Collins believe himself all but engaged to Elizabeth? Not that I recall Elizabeth.'

Understanding the woman before him regressed to an earlier time in their marriage, a time of great hope and felicity, Michael Bennet paced the room. He did not quite know how to react. Obviously his wife required a physician.

'I shall call for the doctor at once,' he stated, watching the deathly pale woman. 'Will you join me in my book room my dear? It appears we have much to discuss and many years to catch up on.'

While they awaited Mr Jones, Mr Bennet began the very great task of explaining their life together. Carefully questioning at first, it soon became apparent the exact moment his wife ceased to remember. Not once did he consider Mrs Bennet to be telling an untruth. Indeed he could see the resemblance to the woman he'd marred so many years in the past, a woman he'd loved and respected above all others.

So, Michael Bennet spoke of their five daughters in the most jovial terms, covered childhood incidents happily, and discussed Longbourn's tenets. When she asked about her family, he entertained his wife with tales of her sister Amelia Phillips, the Gardiner's, both her brother in town and the elder who had intertied their father's estate. Frances cried when she learnt of the death of both her parents. For a woman in the belief of being nineteen, it seemed they left this Earth far too early and a great hole remained in her heart.

Finally the physician arrived and asked many questions. Taken to her bed chamber for closer examination, Elizabeth and Jane watched with worried expressions as their two male servants all but carried the woman up the stairs. For their mother to be sequestered within their father's book room minus hysterics had never occurred within either girls memory. Their Papa motioned them in and told the young ladies of their Mother's memory loss.

'Mr Jones,' Michael Bennet greeted the doctor once he had examined his wife, 'what is your verdict.'

He glanced around, indicating the younger ladies. Mr Bennet signalled for him to start. 'It is a strange case,' Jones warned. 'I worked in the Radcliff Infirmary at Oxford during my training. We saw this kind of memory loss, mostly in patients who experienced a carriage accident or received a blow to the head. It appears you wife has neither cause for her current state of mindlessness,' he shook his head. 'I am at a complete loss as to why Mrs Bennet remembers nothing past your early marriage. There is little I can do or recommend for her recovery. She must get to know you all again. Speak to her of all you have experienced together, it may help but I cannot offer you the least hope.'

Mrs Bennet refused to take to her bed once Mr Jones departed the house. 'I am not sick,' she exclaimed to anyone who would not listen. 'How can I learn of the last years, come to know my daughter's and take my place as the Mistress of Longbourn from my chambers?'

'We shall visit with you, Mama,' Jane stated, concern lacing her clear chocolate orbs.

'Indeed you shall not,' Frances declared. 'I am quite comfortable in this parlour. It has always been my favourite place at Longbourn and where I feel the most comfortable. I wish to surround myself with that which is remembered. Now, tell me of Mr Bingley, Jane. Mr Collins mentioned an engagement between you.'

'Oh Mama,' Lydia crowed before her sister could open her mouth, 'Mr Bingley is to hold a ball at Netherfield Park in five days. He brought the invitation personally and we are all to attend.'

'Hold your tongue, girl,' Frances glared at her youngest, still unsure how this rude child could possibly be related to her. 'By my word you are an impertinent one. How have I never taken you to task over your boisterous ways? We have already spoken of your manners this very morning. It appears you learnt nothing from your reflections.'

'Reflections,' Lydia huffed. 'I did no such thing. Why should I think upon anything when the ball is but a few days away?'

'Lydia,' Mrs Bennet stopped the child's further prattling with a piercing gaze, 'while Mr Bingley has invited the entire family, let me make myself very clear, you shall not be going. Five and ten is much too young to be out in society, especially with the attitude I have witness today. My mother would have rolled in her grave should she ever learn of it. No,' this time Frances tone seethed with conviction, 'nothing you can say or do will change my mind.'

'I could not have said it better, Madam,' Mr Collins agreed in an oily tone. 'Lady Catherine…'

'Mr Collin's, you shall not be attending either. As a man of the cloth, I should think it vulgar for you to even have such pretentions,' Mrs Bennet turned on the man. 'As your host in Meryton, I should be the ashamed to show my face should you insist.'

'I am certain, such entertainment, given by good people,' he started only to have the lady once again interrupt him.

'You may be certain, Sir,' Mrs Bennet stated in a calm, reasonable tone, 'but I am sure the Archbishop will not. What say Lady Catherine, your noble patroness? Has that lady every invited you to a ball at Rosing's Park or encouraged you to entertain the idea of attending such an assembly?'

'You are very good to consider Lady Catherine's opinions, Madam,' Mr Collins seemed at a sudden loss. 'I shall think upon it.'

'I should think a man of your intellect would not need to think upon such a simple task as refusing an invitation.' Frances noted the sigh of relief from Elizabeth. She had not been insensible to the attentions payed to her daughter by Mr Collins or his plentiful conversation in regard to Lady Catherine over the course of an afternoon. However Mrs Bennet had not the opportunity to openly discuss it with Elizabeth. 'Now Jane,' she returned her attention back to Miss Bennet.

The interview that followed allowed Mrs Bennet to begin to know her children. It proved a strange thought indeed. Jane, angelic in looks and countenance had the blush of first love upon her cheeks whenever Mr Bingley was mentioned. Elizabeth, for Mrs Bennet refused to shorten the names of any of her children and considered those who did so rather ill mannered, could be an exact copy of herself in nature. Witty, lively, she would find it hard to attach herself to a man. The girl held the romantic notion of marrying for love. Mary needed instruction to bring out her character. While she read the Lords texts and could recite them, she had little insight as to their true meaning. As to Catherine and Lydia, both needed to be taken in hand. Separation would be of the first order. Perhaps then Mrs Bennet could teach her youngest child some much needed manners and thoughtfulness.

Lydia tried to make as much trouble as the day the Netherfield Ball approached. While she might be three and forty years in body, Mrs Frances Bennet felt nineteen in her mind and remembered only too well what a spoilt child could do. Yet she still held the power of Mistress of this estate and intended to use it. Lydia discovered this much to her displeasure. Many of her inclinations were curtailed especially those pertaining to the militia. While Mrs Bennet remembered Colonel Miller's regiment fondly, the number of compromised and fallen young women left once they moved on caused her to issue a deceleration.

'Mr Bennet,' she stated at dinner that first evening, 'not another officer is to enter Longbourn. I will not have these girls subject to the whiles of such men.'

'Oh,' Michael started to tease only to be silenced by the pleading in Jane and Lizzy's expressions.

'At least Lizzy will suffer too,' Lydia drowned out her father in a spiteful display of temper.

'Elizabeth,' Mrs Bennet sent a questioning look at the woman and a quelling one at the youngest at the table.

'Our sister is violently in love with Lieutenant Wickham,' Kitty added.

'Is this true,' Frances asked, her shrew eyes taking in her daughter's reaction. She did not like what she witnessed. 'Tell me of this Mr Wickham? What sort of man is he?'

It started a conversation about the officers. Several times Lydia had to be rebuked for interrupting. Eventually she was sent to bed without more than her soup course. Once Denny, Carter and Wickham's positions and prospects had been thoroughly discussed the table turned its attention to the rest of the neighbourhood once they retired to the parlour. Jane became the centre of attention as they spoke of Mr Bingley and his party.

'Have you requested the truth from Mr Darcy?' Mrs Bennet probed of Elizabeth when she learnt of the tale Wickham told her.

'He is proud, arrogant and shows disdain for the feelings of others,' Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she all but spat the words. Soon the story of the Meryton Assembly surfaced followed by Jane and Elizabeth's stay at Netherfield. Both held back why they'd been forced to reside at the great house.

'Truly, Lizzy,' Jane stated, blushing at her mother's silent rebuke for using the shortened name, 'I do not think we should believe Mr Wickham's story so implicitly on such a short acquaintance.'

'You are very sensible, Jane,' Mrs Bennet replied reasonably. 'You favourite stated he could never defy or expose Mr Darcy and is that not what he has done. Who else knows of this history?'

The night ended earlier than usual as Mrs Bennet finally succumbed to her aching head. She had much to think upon as she retired. The activities of the day exhausted her. Several times she could almost believe one of the fleeing memories that flittered across her mind resembled something her family said. On deeper reflection, Frances had to wonder if she only wanted it to be so.

It did not take long to understand the relationship with her husband had degraded into an insupportable union as he fled to his book room at every chance. Not able to account for it, Frances took it upon herself to confront her husband three days after her memories departed. Later that night, after visiting his wife, Michael Bennet confessed they had not shared such intimacies since the conception of Lydia. It reopened a long forgotten dialogue between them.

As to Jane and Lizzy, they were astounded at the change in their mother. For three days the entire household walked on eggshells in the fear this new version of Mrs Bennet would suddenly remember and return to the screaming banshee of last week. It had not occurred much to Mr Jones's pleasure and disappointment. He could give no hope of a cure. The entire Bennet family, staff and servants of Longbourn prayed they would keep this genteel woman. Both Jane and Lizzy enjoyed speaking with their mother even if it did seem strange. Mary and Kitty blossomed under her care. They would become different women given time and consideration by their female parent. Only Lydia regrated the change.

'Papa,' the eldest Miss Bennet's entered their father's book room after church on Sunday. This morning he'd seemed lighter, younger and happier.

'I had forgotten,' Mr Bennet indicated they should sit as he recalled visiting his wife last night, 'how your mother was in the beginning of our marriage. So much like you in temperament, Lizzy but that was many years ago. I confess I do not know where it all went wrong.'

'Like me?' an astounded Elizabeth gasped.

'Lively, keen of wit, sociable, even slightly impertinent at times but able to be so because of her impeccable manners and good will towards others. That is what attracted me at first,' Mr Bennet seemed lost in his remembrances. 'Your mother captured my heart. I am glad you are no longer a target for Mr Collin's Lizzy. I could not have beared to lose you to such a man, not that I would have agreed to such a match.'

'I could not believe it when mother apologised for pushing him in my direction,' she uttered. 'How could I not forgive her, when she cannot remember doing so?'

'It is good he goes to stay at Lucas Lodge,' Mr Bennet laughed. 'Who knows, perhaps Charlotte will see him as her saviour from a life of spinsterhood.'

'Do not be so cruel,' Lizzy cautioned. 'I would not wish that man on my enemy.'

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And so we see the changes occurring in the Bennet household. Next we visit Netherfield the night of Mr Bingley's ball. Can you see what changes will occur? The might not be what you are thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN –** I do not condone violence in any form. I use the first paragraph in this work to display emotion and loss of control only. It would also have been socially acceptable at the time, not that it makes it right.

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_**SLAP**_

'HOW…DARE…YOU,' Mrs Bennet screeched at the top of her lungs.

Heart pounding, she felt as though she did not know the five young women before her. Five sets of eyes, from the almost hazel green of her own to the chocolate brown of her husband glared back at her with mixed emotions. Both Jane and Elizabeth had years on her mental age and were shocked to silence at her action. Mary pursed her lips but said nothing, yet felt her sister deserved her punishment, perhaps had it coming for some time. Catherine wore a similar expression as Lydia, one of disbelief. How could she understand these young ladies, her daughters on only five days acquaintance? The though became insupportable.

Turning, ashamed of her behaviour, Frances breathed heavily. In through her nose and out through her mouth. It took ten repetitions to become appeased enough to consider anything rationally. Another five and she'd calmed to a point allowing her to face the situation. The shredded remains of a pink silk ball gown still in her arms, Jane's worry and anger could be seen bubbling under her composed exterior. In Frances Bennet's mind, her eldest daughter had every right to feel this way.

'You will go to the ball tonight, Jane,' she tried for a soothing tone but it came out more shapely than expected. 'Come with me and look in Lydia's closet. You shall have your compensation by choosing whichever of her gowns you please. We have hours to take them apart and make them up to flatter your figure. I am sure between the five of us you will be the handsomest woman at Netherfield and win the heart of Mr Bingley.'

'No,' Lydia screamed defiantly. Stamping her foot she headed for the stairs and her room in order to protect her property.

'Lydia,' Elizabeth easily stood in her way, 'what you have done is unconscionable. Your behaviour these past days is reprehensible.'

'Honestly, child,' Mrs Bennet shook her head with confusion and disappointment, 'I do not know what to do with you. Hill,' she called for her most senior servant.

'Ma'am,' the older woman came immediately. In the last five days her position had become easier. Mrs Bennet no longer called her for the smallest thing and the smelling salts used successfully to treat Kitty's cough. Indeed, the lady acted as she had in the first months at Longbourn.

'I gather the nursery has not been used in many a year?' Frances enquired, holding back the memory of her unborn child. Had that child been Jane? What had she missed while her daughter grew to adulthood? Now on the verge of marriage, Mrs Bennet felt she'd lost something very precious before coming to grasp it.

'No,' Hill smiled. She understood her mistresses meaning perfectly. 'I shall send for the buckets and cloths. The room will need to be scrubbed from roof to floor.'

'Lydia,' Mrs Bennet turned her attention on the wayward child and demanded, 'after you have the supplies, go with Hill please and clean the nursery from top to bottom, alone. Once that is done, if you can tell me why you are completing the task, I will release you. If not you shall take up residence in that part of the house with only gruel and water.'

'I will not,' Lydia screeched attempting to barge past Lizzy and lock herself in her room.

'Myer,' Mrs Bennet indicated one of the male servants, 'please take Miss Lydia to the nursery. Mrs Hill will furnish the key. You may check on her every hour but she is to receive nothing until repenting for her behaviour towards Miss Bennet.'

Bowing before facing a kicking and screaming Lydia, he captured the girl easily and carried above stairs. Lizzy and Jane stared open mouthed at the woman before them. Glaring back at the girls, she handed Jane's gown off to Sara.

'Please send this to the rag bag,' she requested of the servant with a sad glance at the fine silk. Frances could see it would suit her eldest very well indeed. 'What would you have me do, Miss Elizabeth,' Mrs Bennet demanded of the mulish girl scowling at her. 'Have I not tried everything in the last days to curb the child's temper and flirtations? I feel horrid for such a punishment, especially as I cannot claim to know Lydia at all. You are all new acquaintances to me and it pains me beyond belief, so do not condemn me unless you have a better plan.'

'We do not blame you, Mama,' Jane, the natural peace maker offered.

In her mind, Frances Bennet wondered if Michael took any notice of his girls. So far she had seen no evidence of his devotion. It seemed his lackadaisical style permeated into parenting and their children were the poorer for it. Still, this did not solve the problem of a ball gown for Jane to wear this evening. It had to be something she would look exceedingly well in and attract the attentions of Mr Bingley. Over the last days, Mrs Bennet carefully questioned both her eldest daughters. She had to further Jane's suit in every way possible. Yet it would be up to Jane to catch Mr Bingley. Although neither girl said it, Frances could tell her character had changed dramatically over the ensuing four and twenty years. It left her to wonder what she had become and how she acted in public.

As to Elizabeth, she despaired of the young woman's wit and humour. It seemed this Mr Darcy could be a fine match. However with his fortune and great estate, socially he would not be tempted by a woman of lower birth and consequence. Yet, Mrs Bennet longed to get to the bottom the prejudice she noted in her second daughter. Of course the very rich could give offence where ever they went and act with impunity in many cases. Still, the same set of rules held at their level of society. She could not believe an educated man out in the world would treat his father's favourite in such an infamous manner. Appearance was everything to a gentleman.

'Oh, Jane,' Lizzy held up a perfectly white gown once they had reached Lydia's room, 'do you remember this.'

Blushing, she nodded. When Frances requested the story, Jane's embarrassment increased. Lizzy smiled widely and tole the story.

'You commissioned it, Mama,' she teased, 'for Jane's coming out at the very first assembly she attended. She looked very well in it.'

'I wore it once,' still angry with Lydia, Jane stated unkindly, 'before you decided it would suit my sister better. She has never worn it.'

'Perhaps,' Frances wanted to cringe. It seemed her behaviour before losing her memory had not been pleasing to either child. 'We could take off the white ribbon and replace it with something more colourful. If we could find some lace for the hem, it would make the gown long enough. A few embroidered embellishments and we will be set.'

'I have just the thing,' Kitty, who had remained silent until this time, went to her own closet and pulled out a bag containing all her frippery. She'd felt for her sister at Lydia's rash and horrendous actions. Tipping the contents onto the bed she shared with her sister, it did not find long to locate a piece of lace and matching ribbon.

'You must have been keeping this for something special,' Jane's eyes lit up at the accompaniment which would make the dress perfect for a ball.

'If we used the lace to cap the sleeves, there might be enough to sow onto a ribbon and hem your gown. The same ribbon could be used at your waist and this smaller one at the neck,' she explained her ideas. It pleased both Lizzy and Jane. They smiled at Kitty courteously.

'You have a talent, Catherine,' Mrs Bennet took the pieces and placed them on the gown. Fashion had always been one of her fortes. 'Jane will look very well indeed when we are finished. Come girls, we have much work to do.'

Somewhat astounded, they retired to the parlour. Thumps and cries could be heard from the attics. The nursery by virtue of its purpose had been located in the furthest portion of the house. Lydia's temper must be fully engaged for such sounds to travel. The entire party said not a word but felt equally ashamed of her behaviour and their lack of response to it.

'Jane,' Lizzy's soft eyes roamed over her sister now dressed in the refreshed gown, 'I did not believe you could look more beautiful than in your pink silk but I have been proven incorrect and most happily. Mr Bingley will not be able to take his eyes off you tonight.'

'Do not tease me,' Jane demurred, blushing furiously.

'Go down stairs and ask Mama what she thinks,' Lizzy teased. 'I believe she will tell you with all honesty.'

'Is it wrong of me,' Jane lower her head, 'to want her memory to stay away?'

'If it is,' Elizabeth frowned, 'then we shall both be in the wrong. Oh Jane,' the younger woman sighed, 'I do believe I could come to like Mama in this attitude. Without Kitty and Lydia at the ball tonight and Mary taking the time to practice, I believe you shall have every chance to secure Mr Bingley.'

'And what of you, Lizzy,' Jane enquired. 'What if Mr Darcy should ask you to dance?'

'I have declared I will never stand up with that man,' she stated obstinate expression.

'Think, Lizzy,' Jane implored, 'Mama is new to this situation and able to look upon it with fresh eyes. She has not a memory of either Mr Darcy or Mr Wickham, nor will she meet them until tonight. The last five days has showed her judgement to be sound and she refuses to make any slander based on our opinions. Mama has cautioned you to examine the character of each man without pride and prejudice. For my part I cannot see any malice in Mr Darcy and there may have been a very good reason for refusing the living. He is proud and his behaviour not what we are used to, yet what proof does Mr Wickham give. You have not asked Mr Darcy for his side of the story.'

'True,' Lizzy let out the breath she'd been holding. Anger roiled inside her. Jane, her good natured Jane, now supported by their mother who appeared to be everything proper and ladylike, advised Elizabeth to examine the situation more closely. _Could I be wrong_, doubt invaded her mind for the first time. _If I have the opportunity tonight, I shall question Mr Darcy._

Usually Mrs Bennet would ensure they were among the first to arrive. However this night she insisted they delay a quarter of an hour past the appointed hour. Almost missing a step as she entered the coach, her husband instantly supported her. Quiet on the three mile journey, Jane and Lizzy kept up a calm banter, wondering who would be wearing what. They decided Miss Bingley would be in some shade of orange with a feather in her turban. This gave Mrs Bennet a moment's laughter.

Arriving to a line of carriages before them, Michael held her hand. Lying in bed last night, they spoke of her trepidation at seeing her acquaintances for the first time. All callers had been turned away since the incident. Of course the servants had spoken of her memory loss but only in general terms so the populace of Meryton knew but could not conceive of any change in her character. It hurt Frances more than she'd displayed to anyone other than Michael. He alone understood her unease.

'Where,' Frances stood between her girls with Michael on her arm, 'are these famous men.'

'Mr Bingley is in the receiving line,' Elizabeth stated.

'Then let us greet our host,' Mrs Bennet straightened to her full height, shoulders back and head held high.

'Mrs Bennet, Mr Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Eliza, Miss Mary,' Caroline followed this with a half-hearted curtsey. 'I had expected all of your daughters,' she mocked.

'I am sorry to have disappointed you,' Mrs Bennet smiled politely, returning her curtsey in proper measure which only demonstrated Miss Bingley's rude manners. 'Netherfield is decorated most beautifully, Madam. It is a credit to you and your brother.'

'Thank you, Mrs Bennet,' Charles Bingley almost fell over at the propriety displayed by the matriarch of the family. 'If I may be so bold, I would like to claim the first two dances and the supper set, Miss Bennet?'

'I thank you, sir,' Jane felt her cheeks redden at the compliment.

Frances moved her family forward so as not to hold up the line for others wishing to pay their respects to the Bingley's. Caroline felt the sting and muttered under her breath. Of course they had heard the rumours and gossip but scarce believed it. Mrs Bennet's behaviour seemed to be proof, which infuriated Miss Bingley further.

'So Elizabeth,' Frances glanced at her child after they had handed off their coats, 'point our Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham. I wish to take there likeness.'

'Mr Darcy is over there, Mama,' Jane supplied, indicating a corner. 'There are so many red coats,' she started only to have one come up to the party.

'Miss Elizabeth,' Denny bowed, 'Wickham sends his regrets. He cannot be her tonight.'

'Oh,' Mrs Bennet sounded surprised. 'Did he give a reason? It must have been quite important to miss the social event of the year.' This said, Frances gave her daughter a look that reminded her of the decree not to entertain officers of any kind. This dictate had sent Lydia into hysterics and most probably caused her cut up Jane's ball gown. She had not been able to support the idea of her sisters dancing with a red coat while she cooled her heals at home.

Denny grinned, 'I believe he had urgent business in town. Although I do not think it would have been so urgent if a certain gentleman…'

'Did Mr Wickham not say,' Frances asked in an innocent tone, 'that it would be Mr Darcy who would have to avoid him? That he could not defy or publicly humiliate him? Yet is not the exact opposite occurring.'

For Darcy's part, he'd noticed Miss Elizabeth enter the ballroom. Edging closer, he caught the last of the conversation. Shocked by Mrs Bennet's attitude and defence of him, he tried to stay close to the party. He too had heard the gossip but did not pay it any mind. An intelligent man, Fitzwilliam Darcy began to rethink his opinions of the woman as he continued to watch.

Throughout the ball, the Bennet family acquitted themselves with decorum. Mrs Bennet obviously became uncomfortable in the company of her old acquaintances. When the ladies started to gossip she withdrew to stand by her husband for the rest of the night. Surrounded by at least one of her daughters at all times, the girls protected their parents from prying busybodies. Elizabeth, Darcy noted, danced with several gentlemen. She spoke to her friend Charlotte Lucas and shunned most of officers.

Finally dredging up the courage, he approached the young woman sitting beside her mother. Asking for the next set, she agreed. Much to his surprise, Mrs Bennet requested an introduction.

'Mama, this is Mr Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire,' Lizzy didn't understand her mother's reasoning but quickly complied. 'Mr Darcy, my mother has recently been ill and still feels some of the affects.'

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir,' she curtseyed with great reverence. 'I feel as though we have not met before.'

Bowning humbly after her defence of him earlier in the night, he did not quite know how to respond. Yet Darcy knew he had to say something. The woman displayed the same personality as Miss Elizabeth. He now knew where she'd inherited it.

'It must be difficulty, Madam,' Darcy found her responding to his words, giving him the courage to continue, 'meeting so many people unknown yet known to you.'

'I believe,' she stated with a delighted smile, 'we are of a similar temperament in this, Mr Darcy. I suspect you do not do well in large gatherings. My Mary is of a similar character, not able or willing to recommend herself to strangers.'

'Not everyone can be of a lively disposition,' he agreed, looking directly at Miss Elizabeth.

It took Mrs Bennet exactly two minutes to understand his feelings and the reason for fighting them so effectively. Her Elizabeth was in more danger than she knew. Mr Darcy's family would expect great things from his marriage, connections and a large dowry at the very least. The Bennet's could supply none of these and it created an internal struggle in the man. Perhaps, if her behaviour had been as bad at those of her circle, she had caused the gentleman's initial slight of Elizabeth.

'And that,' she whispered as she watched the couple circle each other on the dance floor, 'is at the heart of this matter. My Elizabeth is every bit as vain as the next young woman. Mr Darcy must be made to understand the prejudice he is working under but his pride needs taking down a peg or two.'

Beside her, Michael smiled. The wife he married all those years ago had often spoken aloud to him. Sharing her every thought, he'd found it charming before the event that changed their lives. Not wishing to think upon it, he moved them to the refreshment table.

'Shall we have some music,' Caroline Bingley called into the crowd as the supper hour neared its end.

Making her way to the instrument, she watched the youngest Bennet daughter attending the ball. It appeared Mary would not race her to the pianoforte which meant Charles attentions would continue to Jane Bennet. She wondered what would have occurred if only the younger Bennet's and that odious parson had been in attendance. Surely the family would have exposed themselves to ridicule and she could have used it to remove her brother to town. Finishing a complex piece, Miss Bingley left the instrument open. Much to her delight, Miss Mary hurried to exhibit. However her choice and execution left nothing to be desired. Caroline had to wonder if the rumours were in deed true for the Bennet family had undergone significant change in the last five days.

Mrs Bennet smiled at her daughter. Hearing Mary play for the first time on Thursday, although technically perfect she lacked feeling and expression. That had been the key to healing the breach between them.

'Mary,' Frances interrupted her at Longbourn, 'tell me what feelings the piece you are playing evokes in you?'

'Feelings,' Mary appeared confused.

'Jane, Elizabeth, do you play?' When Jane said no and Elizabeth declared not well, Frances frowned. 'Mary you will instruct Jane for one and a half hours before breaking fast each morning. A woman must be able to play. And you, Elizabeth will take to the instrument next so I may establish if you to need to practice.' This delighted her middle daughter and as easily as that, they formed a bond. 'Now, tell me what would make you the happiest creature in the world, Mary?'

'To take the veil,' she stated.

'We are not Catholic, Mary, so think upon this,' Mrs Bennet said in a gentle voice. Lydia snorted and was soon sent to her room once again. 'A pastor from the local Parrish has uncovered you knowledge of scriptures and religious texts. He wishes to have you for a wife, to aid in keeping his flock. How would that make you feel?'

Swallowing hard, it didn't take long for Mrs Bennet to understand this child had been left to her own devices far too long. Jane had Elizabeth and Lydia had Catherine but Mary had no confident, no hopes for herself or prospects. The look of longing on the poor child's face told its own story.

'Now play the piece again, with joy in your heart.' That achieved, the music had more emotion in it but still not the quality it needed to exhibit in public. 'This time, imagine you are married. Your marriage is one of felicity and respect. You and your husband are happy with your Parrish, attending to the sick and poor.' Once again Mary played, her eyes closed as she felt the dream coming true. 'Please remember that feeling,' Mrs Bennet praised, 'when you play that piece at the Netherfield Ball. I wish you to play it once a day. Mary,' she rebuked, 'you will not rush to the instrument but allow the lady of the house to exhibit first. That way you may show your understanding of the emotion as well as technical ability and pay your respects.'

And that is exactly what occurred. Astounded, many in Meryton had cursed Miss Mary taking to the instrument. They had been shocked she had not tried to elbow Miss Bingley out of the way. From the first chord, the difference had to be noticed. At the end, Mary did not wait for the applause. She fled to sit by her mother who beamed at her. It was all the praise she needed.

Moments before the last dance, Mr Bingley approached Jane to accompany him in closing the ball. This sent a shiver of delight down the young woman's spine and raised the expectations of the entire town. Before returning the young woman to her family, Charles drew her to a quiet corner.

'May I call on you tomorrow, Miss Bennet,' he requested. Clear blue eyes willing her to answer in the positive.

'I would welcome your company, Mr Bingley,' Jane demurred, her cheeks still flushed from dancing coloured further. 'I find you the most amiable man of my acquaintance,' she added.

'I am exceedingly pleased, Miss Bennet, for you are the most hansom woman if have every known.' He then escorted her back to her back to her parents.

Darcy watched the display between his friend and Miss Bennet. Until that moment, he suspected her to be indifferent and willing to accept Charles to please her mother. However his observations over the night, as well as the conversation while dancing with Miss Bennet made Fitzwilliam think better of his opinions. If Charles was to Longbourn in the morning, he would be accompanying the man.

The Bennet's were not the first to leave, but they were gone without ceremony. Mrs Bennet maintained her countenance throughout the night even if some of the old cats' claws were out. They made it obvious they did not believe the story of memory loss. They though it a tactic to secure Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy could not agree. He had never witnessed such a great change in only five days.

On the way back, Mrs Bennet massaged her temple. The others in the carriage enquired over her health. None more than her husband who worried excessively.

'It is just a headache,' she announced a little crossly. 'I have had them off and on since waking on Thursday. Mr Jones said they would slowly recede. I believe I have spent too much time in company tonight. When we arrived home, I shall retire for the night.'

Michael noticed the door between their rooms slightly ajar. He peeked in to find Frances snoring lightly. A smile on his face, he decided to leave her be. They had the rest of their lives.

If only he knew, he would have taken to her bed. For the next morning, he looked in to find his wife cold. By the time the doctor arrived, he simply shook his head at the entry to the chamber.

'I believe Mrs Bennet took an apoplectic fit in the night. I have done much reading on the subject and it is the only explanation for her loss of memories,' Mr Jones explained. 'Unless there is an event in her past that weighed so heavily she could not get past it.'

Nodding, Mr Bennet retired to his book room. He thought on the only incident in their marriage that could have caused the effect Mr Jones spoke of. On the night of the first of April, in the year of the Lord, one thousand, seven hundred and eighty eight, Frances Bennet had born a male child. He had not come easily nor did he take a breath. The midwife stated he came too early and the mother could also be lost. The priest gave both the last rights and baptised the child as he entered the world so he could be buried in consecrated ground. Mrs Bennet took moths to recover and her temperament changed by the ordeal.

'I have to believe, My Dearest Frances,' tears rolled down Michael's face, 'that your true character could not face the thought of our Lizzy marrying anyone as stupid as Mr Collins, that your mind felt the match abhorrent. Still your good countenance, coming when it did is a most fortuitous event. I expect Mr Bingley to make an offer to Jane tomorrow and I believe you have planted a seen in our Lizzy. Mr Darcy will do very well for her.'

* * *

Just a small epilogue to go.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN –** I'm not too sure of the exact customs and protocol surrounding death in Jane Austen's time period. I hope I have done justice to the events directly following the demise of Mrs Bennet. For those who are wondering, Mrs Bennet suffered Apoplexy, otherwise known as a stroke. There is a theory that a cerebral vascular accident (CVA in medical speak or just plain stroke) of the hippocampus (lower brain) might cause the type of memory loss experienced in this story. However the best neurologists of today argue that it would be an initial event soon followed by a massive stroke causing death.

* * *

'Mr Bingley,' Hill exclaimed as she opened the door to Longbourn. Distressed, she had not the time to make to death wreath to attach to the knocker advising guests of the great tragedy.

'Madam,' Mr Darcy bowed, understanding some great event had befallen the Bennet's since last night, 'might we see Mr Bennet.'

Nodding with pursed lips, she allowed them into the entry hall. Moving to the book room door, Mrs Hill knocked. It was not her place to tell these particular gentlemen of the happenings overnight. When an answer did not come, she looked at the callers with a heavy heart. Just as she turned to accept their cards and request they depart, Miss Bennet appeared at the top of the stairs.

'I have all the black material I could find,' she stated, her tone mournful and eyes red from tears.

'Jane,' Charles exclaimed. Suddenly embarrassed by the use of her Christian name, he blushed.

'Mr Bingley,' Jane demurred, carefully negotiating the stairs with her heavy burden. Handing off the bolts to Mrs Hill, she said to the lady, 'Elizabeth has the rest. Please send Myer to retrieve them and then establish if we have black dye. My sisters are choosing which of their gowns will need to be coloured. I shall see to our guest. Oh and please have the wreath of morning placed on the door as soon as may be.'

'Yes Ma'am,' Hill curtseyed. The demonstration of submissiveness to Miss Bennet stated that her mother had passed and she now took the place of Mistress of Longbourn.

'I am grieved for you, Miss Bennet,' Darcy saved the moment with his saddened tone. The pang of loss for his parents hit him squarely in the chest and his thoughts travelled to Elizabeth. 'Please forgive Mr Bingley and myself for calling at such a time and pass on our deepest sympathies to your father and sisters.'

'Papa,' Jane tried desperately to keep the tears from her eyes, 'is in great need of male company, Mr Darcy. Do I ask too much for you to visit with him in this hour of need? I feel my father would welcome any advice from those who have suffered such a loss.'

'I am at your disposal,' Mr Darcy bowed in such a reverential and humble manner it almost broke Jane's heart.

With that, she showed the men into the book room. Announcing them, Mr Bennet looked up with melancholy eyes. He did not stand but indicated they should take the chairs before his desk. Frances spoke of Mr Bingley's great admiration of Jane and suspected he would soon make an offer. She also hoped to change Elizabeth's great prejudice against Mr Darcy over the courtship of her eldest daughter. Now the lady would not be here to see her children happily situated. However, Michael Bennet wanted to grant her last wish.

'My wife,' Michael almost choked over the word, 'enjoyed your ball last night, Mr Bingley. We discussed your calling today, although for a very different reason.'

Darcy and Bingley glanced at one another. Indeed it had been Charles intent to offer for Miss Bennet this very day. The two men spoke of the reformation within the Bennet family. While Darcy still held reservations, he could no longer withhold his support of Bingley choice. Miss Bennet, as the daughter of a gentleman could only increase his standing in society. While wealthy, the money sustaining Netherfield came from trade and it would take many years to remove the memory.

'I have lost my wife,' Mr Bennet's brown eyes turned cold and for brooding. 'Had this occurred a seven night ago, I cannot lie, I would have been delighted. However I am sure you heard of Mrs Bennet's recent illness, indeed you saw the effects of it last night. I remember the joy such felicity and respect in one's partner in life can bring. I wish that for my Jane and Elizabeth. I believe your coming today is fortuitous. Frances would have been delighted with such son in laws.'

'Mr Bennet,' Darcy started. His quick mind soon understood where this conversation intended.

'It was my wife's last wish that Jane's heart be satisfied. Her admiration for you Mr Bingley is absolute. I hope you have come here today to make her the happiest creature for she deserves no less,' Mr Bennet let his words sink in with a penetrating glare.

'It had been my intention,' Bingley started, somewhat disconcerted by the topic under the circumstance.

'My daughter's will be in mourning for six months. Let me be very frank,' Mr Bennet folded his hands and turned his gaze to his interlinked fingers, 'I loved and respected the woman I married. Through my own folly, Mrs Bennet and I grew apart. I have hidden among these books for to many years, allowing my daughter's too much independence. Elizabeth and Jane are all that is good and proper. They will make fine wives. I suggest you use this morning time well, Gentlemen for it was my dearest wife's wish they both soon be married.'

'Thank you, Mr Bennet,' Charles looked and sounded astonished.

'Go, Mr Bingley,' Michael looked up to watch the man stand, eager to be at Jane's side. 'I believe my Jane will take great comfort in your presence at such a time. I shall have a private word with Mr Darcy.'

Waiting until the door once again closed, Mr Bennet observed the tactum man before him. Darcy swallowed several times. Obviously he needed time to think upon Mr Bennet's words.

'Tell me the truth of Mr Wickham,' Mr Bennet demanded the moment Darcy went to open is mouth. The story that came out did not surprise Michael. 'My wife suspected at much, as did I. I recognise there is much more of a personal nature that you do not wish to impart, nor do you have any current intention of making an offer to my Elizabeth. It is my wish you tell my daughter the truth, Mr Darcy. I have hopes it will change the nature of the acquaintance between you.'

Nodding, Darcy though on this for several minutes before answering, 'is there anything I can do to aid you at this time. My own excellent father passed away suddenly four years ago. It proved to be a very dark time in my life.'

'I believe I would take great comfort in your experience,' Mr Bennet then outlined his requirements.

A week later, Mr Bennet, flanked by Mr Gardiner, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy approached the Longbourn Parrish. His daughter's, because of their gender had been relegated to the outside of the building in the falling snow. Only Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Phillips braved the weather to join them. The funeral and wake over, all dressed in black, the Bennet family removed to Pemberley to share Christmas with that family. Hence too went Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy did not extend an invitation to Charles sisters who stayed in London.

Mr Bingley returned to Netherfield in February with the Bennet family, engaged to Jane. They would announce their betrothal in May, after the mourning period, allowing only four weeks for the bands to be read and marry in June. Elizabeth remained at Pemberley, her acquaintance with Mr Darcy and his sister requiring more time to form a deeper bond. She returned to Hertfordshire at the end May to help her sister prepare for her wedding. Darcy waited until the Bingley's married before announcing his intention to wed the second Bennet daughter once they returned from their honeymoon. Elisabeth remained at Longbourn for her three month engagement while Mr Darcy spent much time travelling between his friend's estate and his own.

Mary and Catherine went to London to stay with their Aunt Gardiner after the sojourn at Pemberley. Mary met and fell in love with a young curate. They would have to wait almost two years to become partners in life. Reverend James Smith secured a valuable living in Derbyshire allowing him to take a wife. Catherine remained at home to care after her ailing father who refused to give up his black coat and cravat.

What of Lydia you may ask. No she was not forgotten in the attics of Longbourn with only bread and water (mores the pity), nor did she redeem her behaviour. Mr Darcy took her in hand as her father often wanted to do when she attempted to flirt with every eligible man on his estate. He sent her to a boarding school where she acquitted herself very poorly. In diffidence to Elizabeth, Darcy engaged a very sever companion who left his employ within a month. At his wits end, the girl decided on a career in the theatre and ran away to join a troupe in Ireland, where she found her true calling. Socially the Bingley's and Darcy's could not acknowledge the relationship when Lydia turned up in one of the most fashionable theatres in London. However Mrs Grantly, as she became known, rose to become quite famous and very well off. We will not make mention of the string of admires who flocked to the young lady. Happily she never increased. It would have reduced her fun in life.

Mrs Bennet, looking down form her place in the clouds, smiled joyfully. Four years after her demised, her husband joined her. He would soon be at her side and together they would look over their children. Strangely, Mr Bennet's passing brought Catherine's great love into her life. Although not completely acceptable, Mr Purslow, the funeral directors son and heir took a liking to the last Miss Bennet as he prepared for her father's cortege. As the birth of Elizabeth's first child approached, Catherine married from Longbourn and Charlotte finally removed from Lady Catherine's condescension.

'Mr Bennet,' Frances greeted her husband as he approached the pearly gates, 'how fortunate I misplaced my memory.'

'I believe it was a most welcome event,' he agreed, offering his arm and leading her into their eternal future.

* * *

I am sure this will delight many of you. I am considering a much longer story with the same style of Mrs Bennet. It might be a while in coming as I have to complete my other projects first.


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